The Walking Dead Game S2E1 Novelization
by fezsarecool
Summary: So to practice writing in third person, I novelized-ish the first part of TWDG S2E1. Typically I write in a first-person, but I feel it's kind of important to get everyone's pov in this particular story, so I gave it a try. Like I said, it was just practice. Constructive criticism is always appreciated though. The dialogue is based off of the choices I made when I played.


The pines were incredibly tall; the tips looked almost as if they could touch the sky.

Clementine squinted against the sunlight. The trees reminded her of the giant buildings she saw when she went with her parents once to Atlanta. Her father had told her they were called "skyscrapers." It made sense; the tops of the buildings seemed so high up they could probably leave the atmosphere. That was four years ago, when she was only five, but it felt like centuries. Was life really so simple at one point?

A group of crows that had been perched on one of the branches suddenly scattered at once and flew away. Clementine watched them disappear into the sky before adjusting the straps of her backpack and turning back to where her friends were.

Omid and Christa were crouched behind a fallen tree, with Omid aiming a shotgun at a bathroom across an empty parking lot. They watched it closely, waiting to see if anyone was going to come out. Clementine stood behind them and waited.

"So," Omid said lightly, lowering the gun. "What do you think?"

Christa rolled her eyes. "Omid, you can't be serious."

"I am!"

"We are not doing that."

"Why not?"

"Because!" Christa chuckled and stepped over the tree carefully. Her stomach had gotten so big that even something like that was difficult for her. She was eight months pregnant now, but even with her back and ankles constantly sore, she never hesitated to shoot a gun or defend either of them, no matter how much her boyfriend objected.

Omid followed, walking closely beside her. Clementine stayed behind a little, listening to their conversation as the three of them crossed the parking lot.

"Come on, Christa!" Omid grinned. "What's wrong with 'Omid'?"

"We are not calling our baby 'Omid'; _one _of you is enough. Clementine, a little help here?" She said with a glance over her shoulder.

This again. The two had been discussing baby names for the last two weeks, back and forth, back and forth. Still, it was nice to talk about something other than walkers or food.

"Omid the second?" Omid suggested.

"No."

"Omid junior?"

"No!"

"You have to admit it has a ring to it."

Clementine shrugged and kicked a pebble across the pavement. "What if it's a girl?"

"Then we name her 'Christa'!"

"But _I'm _Christa." Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "I don't want to call her 'Christa,' that's just...confusing."

"So name her 'Genevieve.' I don't care."

"How can you not care?!" Christa smiled at him.

They all stopped outside the bathroom doors. Clementine glanced at a can sitting beside a bench.

_I hope there's food in that, _she thought, going over to look at it. The label read "_Canned Peaches._" She picked it up and looked inside. It was empty, except for a few maggots sitting at the bottom. She scrunched up her nose in disgust and dropped the can again, going back over to Omid and Christa.

"You're not taking this seriously."

"I take _everything _seriously," Omid replied. "_Especially _little Omid's future."

"Keep talking, and you'll be sleeping in the rain tonight." Christa turned to the mens' room. "Remember that time in Barstow?"

Omid smiled. "Vegas weekend?" She looked back at him and smirked, then disappeared into the bathroom. "Why don't you, uh..." Omid turned to Clementine. "Why don't you get cleaned up in the girl's room, Clem?"

"I hope the sink works in there," she replied.

"I wouldn't count on it. Just be careful, and be sure to keep track of your things- we'll be right next door."

Clementine nodded. "Okay," she said, going into the girl's restroom. She clutched her handgun and glanced around nervously. It was filthy and dim, with the only light coming through the small windows near the ceiling on the other end of room. Graffiti was written all over the walls, but it was almost completely illegible. "...Hello?" She called.

No answer. She took a breath, praying that the bathroom was empty, and went to check the stalls.

The toilet in the first one was broken in half, with a puddle of dirty water and trash surrounding it.

"Gross," Clementine muttered to herself before closing the door and moving on the the second stall. This one was much more subdued than the first. "What's that?" She squinted at the darkness until she could make out a tattered stuffed rabbit on the toilet seat, with a fresh bloodstain on the wall above it. She sighed quietly and shut the door, going to the last stall.

This one was the cleanest out of all of them, with only a few pieces of trash surrounding the toilet; best of all, it was empty.

Clementine let out a sigh of relief and turned to the sink. _Good, no one's here, _she thought. _Guess it's safe to get cleaned up. _

She put her gun and backpack on the counter and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was stained with dirt, and her baseball cap, which was once a vibrant navy blue, had a few tears and bloodstains, and was slightly faded in color. She was even starting to outgrow her dress and tights. Although the hoodie she was wearing was in reasonably good shape, having only obtained it a couple months ago.

Clementine leaned back and looked at the faucet. _Please have water_, she thought. She turned the handle and sighed in disappointment when nothing came out. _Figures_.

She unzipped her backpack and took out a water bottle and a rag, then dampened the cloth and wiped her cheeks and forehead. She looked at her now clean face in the mirror again.

"Better," she smiled to herself, then reached over to pick up the cap, accidently bumping her water bottle off the counter with her elbow. It rolled into the third stall, leaving a trail liquid behind it. "Oh, shit," she muttered. She opened the door and found it sitting right next to the toilet, then picked it up to see that it was now covered in dirty water. "Ew."

The door to the bathroom suddenly swung open. Clementine gasped and, on a whim, climbed on top of the toilet and shut the stall door. Her heart raced. Through the tiny space between the door and the wall, she could make out the shape of a young girl, no older than sixteen, standing by the sink. She picked up the gun that was left on the counter and turned it in her hands, then began to look through her backpack.

Clementine leaned over to try and get a better look at whoever it was, shifting her weight to her right foot. The toilet lid creaked, but the girl didn't seem to notice. She held her breath and moved a little more, almost losing her balance. She gasped and caught herself on the wall before she could fall to the floor, then froze as the girl at the counter turned to the stall door. Their eyes met, and she pointed the gun at the crack.

"I see you," the girl said flatly. "Get out of there. You're not fooling me."

Clementine swallowed. "That's my gun."

"S'mine now."

"Give it back."

"Why should I?" She opened the stall, still not lowering the gun. "Get out here," she commanded.

Clementine looked first at her, then at the gun. She wasn't strong enough to grab it from her, and she figured that if the girl was going to take it, she could always find another one somewhere. Anything was better than being killed. She climbed off the toilet seat, her hands raised, and got out of the stall.

The girl continued going through her backpack. "You got anything on you?" She demanded without looking up.

"No," Clementine lowered her eyes to the ground. "That's all I have."

"That's it? How'd you make it this long...?" She rummaged through the pack for a moment, then suddenly turned and pointed the gun again. "I'm serious!" She barked. "What else you got?!"

"That's it!"

"Don't lie to me- I'll pop you! Give me what you got!"

"I don't have anything!" Clementine cried. The girl narrowed her eyes and looked her up and down.

"Gimme that hat," she ordered.

"_No!_"

"Where'd you get it?"

Clementine bit her lip and looked at the floor again. She felt small and helpless. If there was anything she wasn't willing to give up, it was her hat. The girl could have anything else in the bag she wanted, not that there was anything particularly useful. "My dad gave it to me…" She finally admitted.

The girl's eyes widened, and for a split second Clementine thought she was going to let her keep it. Instead, she said, "Just give it to me."

She didn't move. The girl scowled and shook her head, going back to digging through the backpack. "Junk, junk, junk. Look it all this junk! Shit, shit, and more shit...why you ain't got nothin' good?"

Under the stall, Clementine could see the bathroom door slowly open, and Omid stepped into view, brown eyes wide as he realized the situation. The girl didn't notice his presence and continued to go through the backpack, bragging about how much she was able to take from the last people she encountered.

Clementine stayed quiet and watched as Omid slowly moved toward the girl at the counter. He moved silently, afraid that the smallest sound would set her off.

"...You ain't got nothin' good. You're just a little fish. You gonna cry little fish?" The girl snickered and pulled out a photo from the backpack. This your daddy?" She said to Clementine. "What a bozo."

There was a noise- the sound of the bathroom door closing. Omid turned his head toward it, and the girl whirled around and fired the gun.

The sound of the gunshot echoed off the walls. Clementine's ears rang, and at first she couldn't tell whether or not Omid had actually been hit or not. But when he coughed, and when he covered his chest with his hand and dark red blood began to stain the fabric, it was obvious that he had.

Clementine's eyes widened in horror and she gasped as her friend fell to the floor. She wanted to run to him, to somehow make it okay so that he would live and be with her and Christa and the baby, but she couldn't. She felt as though she was welded to where she was standing. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and placed her small hands over her mouth so she wouldn't scream.

The girl's eyes were glued to the dead man lying on the floor. She shook her head in disbelief over what she had done, feeling as though she might vomit at any moment. She had never killed a living person before. She had threatened some easily, gotten in fights, driven a knife in the skulls of countless walkers, but never a human being. She never thought she could, not after seeing her father get killed in cold blood. He was murdered; murdered was exactly the word for it. Another man had killed him without a second thought...just as she had done. Did that make her a murderer now? He probably wasn't going to hurt her. He was probably with the little girl. He was probably the one taking care of her. Now he was dead, because of her.

The door once again burst open. Clementine's eyes yanked open to see Christa rushing in, carrying the shotgun. She looked first at Omid, then at the girl standing at the counter, realizing what had happened. Her dark brown eyes were filled with rage and tears.

"I- I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!" The girl dropped the gun and raised her hands. "I didn't mean-"

Another loud bang made Clementine gasp. Christa had shot the girl in the abdomen, sending her crashing against the wall. Red liquid exploded from the wound, and her corpse slid to the tile, leaving a trail of her blood behind her.

Christa began to sob and slumped down to Omid, cradling his body in her arms. "...Oh god...Omid? Omid, can you hear me?" She pressed her forehead against his and gripped his hand. "Omid, please…"

There was a time, months ago, when she had thought Omid was dead. He had an infection in his leg. When she came back from getting him medicine, he was lying motionless on the mattress. Christa had felt like someone had taken a blow to her stomach and knocked the wind out of her lungs. She remembered everything but his still form disappearing around her. She had yelled his name and ran to his side, apologizing for leaving him alone and praying to God, if God really existed at all, that he wasn't dead. And he wasn't. His eyes popped open and he sat up and smiled at her like nothing had ever happened.

But this was different. She knew he was dead. She heard the shot and saw the blood. He wasn't going to wake up and smile at her like he did in Savanna.

Christa let out another shuddering sob and squeezed his hand. The girl had shot him. But...where did she get the gun?

She looked up from Omid's face and saw it lying on the ground where the girl had dropped it. Except it wasn't just any gun; it was Clementine's. Somehow the girl had gotten a hold of it. Omid was constantly telling Clementine to keep her gun with her, and she almost always did. And the only time she didn't…

Christa looked at her through her tears, as if to ask her, "Why?" Why did she leave the gun unattended? Why did she let the girl take it? Why did this happen…?

Clementine's body trembled. She shut her eyes, avoiding Christa's stare. It was too easy to imagine what she would be saying to her right now.

_Christa, _she thought. _Christa...I'm sorry..._


End file.
